This New Divide
by Spylace
Summary: SG!AU Sequel to Our New Divide. The Decepticons were led to believe that the humans had shared their every secret. Now they find that they've been lied to.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** This New Divide  
><strong>Summary:<strong> SG!AU of the movie continuity. The Decepticons were led to believe that the humans had shared their every secret. Now they find that they've been lied to.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Notes:<strong> Happy new years everyone! For me, the clock just turned to 2012, a leap year, also known as the year of the dragon.  
>Well it's been a year since I started <em>Our New Divide<em> and I have finally returned with a sequel. It would have been sooner but with Transformers: Dark of the Moon, it was as though RotF never happened. So this story sank to the bottom of my writing list, pending redraft, reformatting, re-etc. Now, I have given up on trying to understand the mechanics of the live-action history and decided to treat this story as it is—an AU.  
><strong>Edit: <strong>It should be noted that unless you've read _Our New Divide_, this fic won't make much sense. If you still don't want to read it, here's a summary in brief: The noble Decepticons follow the Allspark to Earth where they clash against the evil Autobots. In the ensuing chaos, both sides suffer losses with the Allspark eluding them once more. This is where this fic picks up.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> At this point, I'm repeating this out of habit. I do not own Transformers.  
><strong>Warning: <strong>none, oh right, un-betaed. One of these days, I'll have to find one for my very own.

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The alien was twisted in shape, ruined, bulky and protruding, making it difficult to place it in a trailer as originally planned. Instead, Powers had someone drape a thick tarp over the still-sparking remains, bright blue and terribly conspicuous in the dark space inside the Hoover Dam.

Simmons felt frazzled and a little sick, as though he had been running on little sleep and too much coffee over the past month. Waving his arms around like a madman, he directed people left and right, screaming when he found a single square inch of the alien exposed—the shiny surface looking ready to come alive at any moment.

Powers pulled him away and told him to go home.

In the end, they all held their breaths as the twenty-odd tons of wreckage were wheeled out into the sun.

.

Thomas Johnson, a small boy of eight, whined and kicked at the passenger seat, determined to be heard over the blast of music from the stereo. His mother, her ruddy features pinched and worn, swiveled around, frizzy hair a disturbing halo around her head as she slapped his knee. With luck, they would be stopping at a rest stop and a gas station soon to see what was wrong with the air conditioning—so could he please shut up and try to behave? He would be much cooler if he'd just calm down and sit still.

The woman handed her son the wrinkled printouts of a map and fanned her face. In a past life, maybe nine years ago, the route might have seemed scenic, but with their advent of their son and a futile attempt at a family vacation, it was all she could do to stop herself from howling out loud herself. Her husband, balding and a slight paunch around his middle, patted her hand absentmindedly with a sweaty palm. He squinted at the succession of signs and turned his music up as loud as it could go.

Dejected, Tommy threw the leaves of paper aside, his stringy blond hair sticking like a cap to his skull. Pouting, he stuck his head out the open window to see if he could catch bugs in his mouth. His mother yelled don't do that and he quickly pulled his head back in when he caught sight of a truck with a rusted grill.

Grinning in excitement, Tommy was about to pump his arm up and down in the national sign for the man to blow his horn when he saw the tarp-covered heaps of metal behind the rusted grill. In between the bright blue, he could see bits of twisted metal sticking out, dripping black oil and obviously beyond repair.

"Disgusting" his mother denounced critically. "The way some of these people drive. You listen to me Tommy..."

Artfully, Tommy tuned her out, hoping that the trap would somehow miraculously flap back to reveal the treasure of wreckage beneath. Suddenly, he noticed that the truck windows were tinted black. Like the government-issue vehicles in the C-rated movies he and his father liked to watch. Eyes wide, the boy swept up and down the lurid tarp for clues. Was it an alien space ship? Wow!

He stuck his head back out the window. The top of his head quickly warmed beneath the Californian sun and for a moment, he did not mind the residual sticky heat. He grabbed a camera from where it had been preciously tucked behind the driver's seat, like it was tiny person. His mother let out a disapproving noise but didn't comment, too tired and relieved to have him find a form of distraction.

In the light of day, the camera flash was not immediately noticeable. The helicopter escorts above had other priorities and the black SUVs fanned out in the front were busy securing the road. Tommy lowered the camera from his eye when the tarp suddenly pulled back to reveal a boxy head near the front of the trailer. The rolling balls in the rounded sockets rolled and lit up with a cruel relief.

Frozen, Tommy noticed the light gathering near the exposed part of the wreckage. Its wings, he realized with a start. It was a wing. He opened his mouth, "Mom...? Dad...?"

Air Raid raised himself on shaky legs, pulling free of the tarp and chains as the truck jackknifed under the sudden concentration of weight. Above, helicopters surged into a formation around the newly awakened Autobot, guns firing as the truck crashed into the civilian vehicle.

.

**A.N.:** Hardly an auspicious beginning. Well? What do you think?


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** This New Divide  
><strong>Summary:<strong> SG!AU of the movie continuity. The Decepticons were told that the government had shared every secret. Now they find that they have been lied to.  
><strong>Rating: <strong>T  
><strong>Notes:<strong> It's been a year since I've updated and I'm sort of back? Is this the fictional equivalent of Kotoamatsukami? Uh maybe. To be fair, Skywarp really, really did not want to be written, like ever.  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> At this point, I'm repeating this out of habit. I do not own Transformers.  
><strong>Warning: <strong>conspiracies

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"You're joking." Skywarp snapped, slamming a servo against an outcrop of rock in frustration. He sneered at the spatter of feet as several native rodents darted out of their dens in panic, a brief flash of their white underbellies and pink feet before they melted back into the tropical background.

Their surroundings were hideous but necessary. The military complex serving as their temporary home provided everything they needed except one—privacy. They had come out here under the guise of training, playfully sparring and shooting off photon blasts into the air as they discussed plans. As far as meeting went, there had been worse. To this date, Megatron refused to confer with his senior officers over large bodies of water, which was why he was staying as far away from the beach as possible.

"These organics have done nothing to warrant our aid."

Skywarp's tone could have peeled paint off the breadth of Devastator's aft. His disgust in the matter was so whole, so complete that even Blackout seemed taken aback.

This couldn't possibly end well, Barricade thought gloomily as he shook himself free of silica. What on Cybertron had Megatron been thinking when he called this meeting? When he called Skywarp out of his well-timed patrols in the air. For that matter, why in the pits had he come? He could have stayed in his quarters where it was nice and quiet, where the humans gaped at him when he as so much as shifted 0.012 degrees to the right.

"We cannot make it off this planet without their help. With the additional troops and the Autobot prisoners..."

Skywarp hissed with impatience, sounding like a barrel of razor snakes in a snit.

Megatron rolled his optics at the familiar argument of taking Autobots prisoners as opposed to letting them die on Earth in exile, a slow starvation which would be a long time in coming since the planet was so rich in resources. Even Brawl had felt leery of their chances. The Aerialbots had originally been shuttles and impounded passenger gets; they could easily be modified to accommodate the bulk of the Autobot army if they couldn't figure out a way to open up a space bridge first.

And why would they want to? Earth was a kind of a paradise beneath the layers of organics.

Sliding an optic towards the Seeker, Blackout opined, "I'd hate to say this Lord Megatron, but Air Commander Skywarp has a point. We have no reason to participate in these treaties. If they wish to keep our identities a secret, it is their clause, not ours."

"Look," Barricade reasoned. "We brought this down on them. Not sayin' we should wine 'em and dine 'em but don't they at least deserve a cube of energon before we bail out on them like cheap dates?"

Brawl spoke up, "What does food have to do with anything?"

Blackout shook his rotors, ejecting Scorponok from his back. "Thank Primus I don't suffer your inadequacies in the moral compartment."

"It just isn't right 's all." Sideswipe drawled, neatly folding Barricade against the sand. He grunted, kicking the other mech off and receiving a punch to the head for it. "How are we any different from the 'Bots if we just let the humans deal?"

"They brought this on themselves the moment they concealed the Allspark." Skywarp muttered sourly.

Behind him, Hook raised an optic bridge and a signal to cut the argument short while somebody was ahead. The senior Constructicon had made planetside at Blackout's request when it became evident that Skywarp wasn't getting better. It hadn't been fun to hear the lieutenant admit that there was nothing more he could do for the Seeker.

Thundercracker had made the flight himself, against orders, carrying an additional load of Sideswipe who'd barely managed to keep the young flyer from crashing into the ocean. He'd been half-mad, dropping his two passengers on deck before vaulting into the air. It had taken both Megatron and Skywarp to bring him down, the latter of whom hadn't benefited from the strenuous exercise.

The rest of the Constructicons were on Mars along with Soundwave, awaiting their next orders. He'd hate for it to be another funeral.

"Brawl?"

The huge tank shrugged.

"What can we do?" Thundercracker asked, bracing his commanding officer when Hook went after the new stress-fractures. "The 'Bots will never surrender. Humans _will_ die."

"Let them" Brawl grunted, having lost all interest in proceedings.

"Enough!" Megatron put his pede down. "I will not have my soldiers making a mockery of this meeting."

"What did you expect? All it's missing is Devastator putting on a tap-dance routine!" Skywarp snarled, standing up.

"I'd pay to see that." Sideswipe murmured quietly, using Barricade as a shield.

Hook swore as he was upended in the sand, vapor trails enveloping him before he shook them off. Raising a thwarted servo against the sky, the Constructicon threatened that the mech better not have new cracks in his frame when he got back. After several lingering looks, Thundercracker followed, his engines deafening.

"Primus." Hook muttered, throwing a blowtorch on the ground. "What a mess."

.

"So what's up with Skywarp?"

"His aft, what else is new?"

It'd been the most popular question since the un-exed-Air Commander warped into the stratosphere, shredding a weather balloon (and thank Primus it was only a weather balloon), scaring flocks of geese, and apparently making Soundwave cry from the distortions in space. He had been badly injured from what Barricade had been able to see, chassis smashed and glass fragments glittering the floor at his every breath.

It hadn't helped the situation any when Blackout had commed the Constructicons for consultation, shaking his helm and replying that he was a scientist first and the level of sophistication required in Skywarp's repairs was beyond his scope.

Hook, well-versed in the art of evasive tactics as taught to all medics with uncomfortable questions to answer, pinned him with a droll look and crossed his servos.

"You're avoiding the question." Barricade pointed out helpfully causing Sideswipe to snort. "Oy Blackout." He addressed the mech observing the effect of the Terran atmosphere on degradation of foreign metals—namely their bodies. "What's the news on Big Bird?"

Hook squawked _the who?_ And Blackout shrugged, "Perfectly fine according to him."

His tone made it clear that everything was but. Barricade winced. "That bad?"

"He warped himself across the universe with nothing more than a pithy spark-instinct and a disabled space bridge. He's lucky he isn't in _pieces_."

"We think he splinched himself." Blackout summarized matter of fact and when Barricade turned back to look at him in a double-take, added "When he went through the wormhole, he wasn't reassembled quite correctly."

"Doesn't matter how does it?" Hook said cuttingly, shooing the two mechs out the door. "He's going to die anyway."

.

Air Raid woke to the heavy thwack of helicopter blades still ringing in his audials and it rankled him that a handful of fleshy organics subdued him so easily with their primitive weapons. Once the sun warmed him up, it had been a simple matter of ripping through the tarp and the chains. The resulting chaos had been glorious as well as the sight of the white Cadillac running beside them, three organics inside, exploding at the touch of his torque rifle.

The ensuing hail of bullets however, was not.

Air Raid had been taken down, his communications array and programming disabled with disturbing thoroughness that belied routines and set protocols. He was not sure how long he had been in stasis lock, the blinking lights on his HUD suggested he be supine His only hope now was that one of his brothers could feel him through their gestalt link..

Yoked like an organic herd beast, Air Raid growled when he was rolled through yet another damp passage, sprayed with a chemical compound that stiffened his joints and numbed his frame. Though his limbs froze completely, he had yet to go into torpor as a grounder would when dropped below -70 degrees Celsius.

He watched as the puny humans chittered among themselves, complained about his brightly-lit optics and prepared for his arrival. These were what the Decepticons had fought so hard to protect? What Starscream had fought to protect?

Beyond disgusted, Air Raid listened to the song and dance about the terms of his unconditional surrender. He was not indispensable, there were others flitting around the air space (he let out a subtle rumble). With a sickening lurch, he realized that the fleshling was talking about Seekers.

So caught up in the magnificence of his plan, Powers did not notice when Air Raid squinted past his fragile form and scanned the impenetrable walls of the NEST base. He was too big to be moved easily so he was brought into what appeared to be an open auditorium filled with Sector Seven relics they barely salvaged from the Hoover Dam. The collection was pitiful, the president somewhat unimpressed with the division's duplicity.

But the security of their nation was their number one concern. If NEST was to work directly with the Decepticons, Sector Seven had to be their shadow lying in wait. Gathering knowledge before either could think it useful, ready to step in at a moment's notice to smooth things over.

Air Raid's processors froze. Air escaping him with a disquieting wheeze.

Blue optic rolled towards him in greeting, the other completely covered by a gold film.

Starscream.


End file.
